There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves. Mike chortled. And yet—I love you. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I feel about it. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. He had remarkably skilful fingers and a love of detailed processes, and he had become one of the most dexterous amateur makers of rock sections in the world. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters.
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