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See paragraph 1. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. A common rage flushed their faces. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. She would write to Gerald.
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