He's as generous as he's frolicsome. 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. I spent many happy days there. She rode him gently. “Four,” Anna decided firmly. After all, they’re history in the making. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave.
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