” “Can’t we arrange something? Can’t we make a sort of treaty?” “He wouldn’t keep it. 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. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. .
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