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The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. 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. I see now that you make a game with me indeed. ” “That’s a question of detail,” said Ann Veronica.
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