He gave Valade the go-ahead and they’ve gone off to visit him. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. 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. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. " "Where?" "At Yale.
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