” Lucy would always press her face into her mother’s skirts when she heard the ending, no matter how many times she heard it. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. The Widow and her Child II. ” “Well—” “That’s all. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. 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.
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