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. Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. Be warned by your father's fate. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. But what a monster was this Emile. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. . Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. “Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon.
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