Mr. 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. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ” “We will have some tea in the drawing-room as soon as ever we can—and I will take my things off. He rested on one elbow.
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