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. He just walked in a few minutes ago. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. Even now, my problems begin to catch up with me; they will discover me soon. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. She has also been afflicted with occasional returns of her terrible malady.
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