The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. “P. 232 I found out that she was crazy shortly after I had ascended to priest of the Temple. “I want to find an address. By rights I ought to have arrested her days ago.
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