Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. Lucy sat beside him. 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. It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. “I don’t know why. His glance came up again and met hers. White would not approve of callers.
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