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She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. 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 Mother Abbess, while thankful, could not be brought to consent to allow the girl out of her charge alone with unknown servants, and Martha was delegated to accompany her erstwhile nurseling to the homeland she had thought never to see again. We'll try whether he'll get loose again. Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. S. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand.
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