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. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. " "You can give me a little of his history, can't you? Something about his people?" "Oh, his folks were all right. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary.
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