She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. I've another reason for supposing he'll pay me a visit. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). I am.
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