Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. But she was not sure just how to reach it. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. She would never, never go back. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow.
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