He came up to her just as she reached her goal. “William Solent,” he read, on the upright slab of sandstone; and then, under the date of birth and death, the words, “ Mors est mihi vita. ”

Wolf had no difficulty in recognizing the particular hyacinths that stood in an earthenware pot. “She must have come here for twenty-five years!” he thought, with a gasp of astonishment; and he gave her a hurried, furtive, prying look from under his bushy eyebrows.

She certainly did nothing on this occasion to cause him any discomfort. She just muttered in quite a conventional tone, “I never like to see plantains in the grass”; and bending down, she proceeded to pull up certain small weeds, making a little pile of them behind the headstone.