Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. 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. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. I knew it was only a matter of time before the boys started paying attention to you, Lucy. ‘When she lies outright, she thinks about it. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first.
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