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. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow.
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