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 want to leave it for ever. Somehow logic could not explain her. ” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Diane replied, “Is there something wrong with that, Michelle? This is my house too, you know. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. You must—you shall be mine.
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