She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. 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. I couldn’t sit down for a week!” “Oh, how terrible for you. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Something drew you. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again.
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