Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. 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. That knot also would be cut. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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