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. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. . He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. “I hope that Mr. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. “And here’s where John creates his crazy experiments.
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