Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. 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. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. "If you knew how much importance I attach to your answer," he continued passionately, "you would not refuse me one.
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