” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. 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. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. ‘Ah.
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