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. Her father had determined on a new line. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round. As Mrs. "Ruth?" he called. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. One or the other. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man.
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