"You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. . But even you cannot alter her character. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so.
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