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Neither you nor your mother shall escape me. 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 don’t care what else there is in the world. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home.
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