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. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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