Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. . Section 3. I don’t believe in the faults. 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. Winter came at the manor. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. ‘Let’s see now.
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