CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. 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 wouldn't do to say that she was from the hospital. " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. “Not possible.
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