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. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. The ragged edge. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. He put his arms around her in a circular embrace. . And I'll have supper with you. " "I'd good reasons for placing it there, Sir; but don't question me about them now, or you'll drive me mad," returned Mrs.
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