” Ann Veronica made a sympathetic little murmur. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. 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. “Really, Vee, you seem to have advertised our relations pretty generally!” “They—they knew, of course. He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. " "Right," answered Ireton. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day.
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