So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Life waits for us. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. ” There was silence between them. 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. ‘I rather suspect,’ added Prudence, ‘that Major Alderley’s motives were somewhat different. But the five per cent. “What are you doing?” he asked.
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