One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. 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. About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. " "This is folly," cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. All her life Martha had been there.
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