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. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. It was now evident that he had not been normal that first day. It’s—Mrs. He was a Canton guide, highly educated, having been graduated from Yale University.
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