“I ate their mother first. "But I happen to be an honest man myself. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. “Leave them!” He yelled. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Manning, abruptly. Her skin prickled.
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