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. As Austin rose to execute his principal's commands, and usher the women to the gate, Mrs. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you.
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