Not if I read her aright. Mr. She’s very special. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. 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. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. Chapter XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him.
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