He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. "I wonder," said Ruth. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. 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. ” He walked from his door frame to stand nearer to her. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious.
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