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Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “That’s a weird name. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. org/donate Section 5. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to.
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