“Good-bye, John,” she said simply. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. 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. When I am angry, I can get very mean. ‘Damnation! Too late. ” “Give me something to do,” said Ann Veronica, interrupting her persuasions at last.
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