Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties. “Shari told me. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. 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. “To tell you the truth, I am a little dull. Had to. That had shut him up for a while. To-night all London believes that he was your husband.
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