Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. The Leads 405 XXI. The decision had been sound. 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. The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. "I am as God made me. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting.
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