” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. . ‘Eh bien, does that mean that you will do it again?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. 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. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. I am no one, Gérard.
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