“When did you start?” She said between puffs. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. If it is that I am in the least French, and that you do not like it—’ ‘I don’t like it,’ snapped the old man. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her. We met dissecting dogfish. ” “I wonder,” said Mr. 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.
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