” She came closer. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. Still silence everywhere. She felt like a dried-up old woman. . “Okay, I guess. ” He frowned. "I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it. 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. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Mr.
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