Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which were true. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. 1. 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 knew his appetite from many a homemade dinner and knew also that he had taken Bitch Vorsack’s comments to heart. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. ‘You’re either mad, or in love.
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