His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch.
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