She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. . Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ” “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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