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. I like the way you shared it. "A missioner! That illuminates everything. ’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. ‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. Utter silence answered him. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips.
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