He watched her, savoring her curious attention. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. John picked it up and put it in her hands. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. Paris, 18. I consented. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne.
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