The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. 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. B. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years.
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