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 did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes.
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