It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. 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. But I'll tell you about him some other time. He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. “Certainly. He took up his hat and went.
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