"Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. 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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