Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. 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. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. I can see the whole thing was just a set-up for sequels, though. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other.
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