Something to tell you. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. 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. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. ” “And he accepted meekly?” “Practically. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether.
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