"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. . He could not kiss Ruth. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. The months that followed September spiraled downward. . ” Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison’s shoulder. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny.
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