Wood, "it may be poisoned. You must remember, you've just begun to read; you haven't any comparisons. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. 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. You must have figured that out by now. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. Section 1.
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