‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. 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. . Just a friendly polite suggestion. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. He could not know about the Remenham connection, could he? No one knew but her father and Martha. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity.
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