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. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. "Are you sure these bars touch the ground?" "They come within a yard of it," answered Jonathan. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. ” He looked at her anxiously, and she met his glance with a dazzling smile of gratitude.
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