It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. I have since received a most extraordinary letter from her. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. 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. we’ll stop by the Amoco on Maple. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. My business is with Lady Trafford. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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