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. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. “Cut her throat!” Sebastian snapped. ‘For my part, I am in no hurry to end this exciting little adventure.
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