" "It is," answered Wood. ” “The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple,” Annabel said coldly. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. We all love you dearly. 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. And this shall be your diet till you die. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. "It's a mercy you both escaped!" ejaculated Wood, only just finding his tongue. Think, ma’am.
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