There was a third lady among the younger set. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. 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. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. ” “And what about this man—Mr. “I got your note just in time,” he remarked. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. He does not look the criminal. She turned her head to each side. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation.
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