Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. ’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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