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. Reaching the panel, she was able with the aid of her lantern to find the lever at once. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. “Lord!” she said. “We banished his experiments to here in the basement from then on. ” “The posters at least,” Anna answered quietly, “I have some claim to.
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