She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. There are way-stations—even terminals. 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. . A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones.
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