. ” There was silence between them. ” “I wish you would use my Christian name,” he said. 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. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. “We’re going to be found out someday. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. ‘I live in Kent.
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