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. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. ’ ‘Where then is your uniform?’ ‘I don’t wear it to balls. “And now,” said Ann Veronica surveying her apartment with an unprecedented sense of proprietorship, “what is the next step?” She spent the evening in writing—it was a little difficult—to her father and— which was easier—to the Widgetts. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you.
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