Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries. Imitating the example of Mr. They stopped talking, except to each other. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. He got up brusquely.
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