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. . Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. You are wholly in my power.
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