” He bent and kissed her hair and paused, and then forced his attention back to the map. 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 stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. But she had found it very difficult. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails.
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