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. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. ” She said, frozen to the floor where she stood. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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