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. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. "All's over," muttered Jonathan.
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