"Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. But a total stranger, a man you never saw twentyfour hours ago! It can't be thought of. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty.
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