The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. " "Go on, tell me," he urged, enchanted. CHAPTER XII. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower.
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