But I will go. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip.
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