We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. She had but to choose. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall.
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