E. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. 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. Petals!. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind.
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