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Anna sent her away. She had called the police on them anonymously. To—to find myself. 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. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you. ” Courtlaw refused brusquely, almost rudely. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully.
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