“I had thought to go on to Kandersteg,” said Capes, “but this is a pleasant place. And he had destroyed all this. Yet he stays. If you’ll forgive my saying that, and implying what goes with it. For a space he rode the whirligig. Wild has done his business. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. 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. " "Impossible, dear Mrs.
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