"Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the widow. This year—I’ve got it badly. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth.
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