Mr. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. ‘You are the one that I have met in London. 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. ” “Wait,” she said. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. There were two sisters, you know. ” The tired woman sat still for a moment. “I want to have no distractions.
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