" "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. \"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. She looked in the rear-view mirror. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. 230 Rhea sprang, teeth flashing. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return.
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