“Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. 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 liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. It’s time she knew. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride.
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