“Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. 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. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. "Try fifty pounds more," said Jonathan.
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