The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. " "Uh-huh.
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