. " "Twenty pounds," rejoined Mrs. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. ‘I am not a fool.
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