Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. 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. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. " "You need never be afraid of that," returned Winifred, affectionately; "my father will take care you never leave him more. “I remember it very well indeed. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut.
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