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. "Is it poison?" she asked. The perfume was the only one she ever used. " "You don't inquire what brings Sir James Thornhill here?" said Austin. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. \"This is my best friend, Mark.
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