Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. F. God knows how you did it. ’ ‘Certainly that is true. 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 will be opposite the big entrance in Old Palace Yard. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. Ramage, speaking the simplest first thought of his heart.
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