I cannot have my wife distressed or worried. 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. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. Could she go through with it? She must. In lieu of it, he still adhered to the sleek black crop, which, throughout life, formed a distinguishing feature in his appearance.
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