But it is not entirely without hope, for perhaps they may find some succour with Charvill. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. He kissed her again. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. It would make the young wife unhappy. 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. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up.
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