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Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. 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. It took a long two minutes for Michelle to die, and she struggled hard before she was put down. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. “Nothing so base.
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