Sarah prayed. “Please don't let these two great boobies sit here all the afternoon. If only we could play a game or argue as we used to."She looked to her left. Harcourt Phelps nervously uncrossed his legs and sat up straighter, an uncertain smile coming and going across his long features.She looked to her right. Harold Phelps's thin fingers touched his neckcloth and he too smiled, a pale copy of the boy she'd once romped with so merrily.They were twins who, from the day of their birth, had done everything together. They were now twenty-one and, keeping strictly to the principle of their life to date, had unified in falling in love with the girl next door.The girl in question was heartily sick of the entire business. Sarah got up and crossed to the French doors that looked out to the garden drowsing in the sunlight. “There are apples in the orchard. Let's go and pick some.""Do you want apples?” That was Harcourt. She'd been the only one, outside their immediate family, who could tell them apart, though the similarity was less now that they no longer dressed alike.
