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. Part 2 The next few weeks were a time of the very liveliest thought and growth for Ann Veronica. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. She wanted to know.
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