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. Considering how little he lets her have. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. Do get your hat, and we will go to that corner café. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow.
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