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“This ain’t no place for you. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. After all, that was life. 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. ” “I’m not surprised at it. “My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much. Montague Hill. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you.
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