She is, in her way, a dear. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. His tongue was hot. He looked no longer at his wife. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. . 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. Jarvis did not leave a will. ” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket.
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