Course of Empire | Richard Wilson (1956)
The older man sat down on the grassy bank on the hill overlooking the orchard. The autumn sun was bright but the humidity was low and there was a breeze.
The younger man sprawled next to him.
“Cigarette?” he asked.
“Thanks,” said Roger Boynton. He looked across the valley, past the apple trees, to the fine white-columned house on the hill beyond. He smiled reminiscently. “A friend of mine once owned that house. A fellow commissioner in World Government. He and I used to sit on this very hill, sometimes. We’d munch on an apple or two that we’d picked on our way through the orchard. Winesaps, they’re called.”
“You were telling me about the colonizing,” said Allister gently, after a pause.
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