“Don’t let them know I’m here. 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. It’s just upon my lunch-time. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. Not at all. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale.
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