" "You are mocking me, Rowland. The inn was a military haunt. 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. Manning displayed distress. “No, I administered poisons to you according to the ancient tradition. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key.
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