Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. ” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him. 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. Her brother Roddy, who was in the motor line, came to expostulate; her sister Alice wrote. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction;—"a devilish pretty fellow!" "Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, "you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face. Spurling.
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