She was no longer there. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. !" "I understand," interrupted McClintock. 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. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. I could not dream of loving you. It took my breath away. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her.
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