‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty. Oh, Jack! repent, while it is yet time, of your evil conduct. 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. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string.
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