America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John. Sheppard. “No. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice.
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