Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. His smile faded. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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