“Let us escape,” she said. 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. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. ‘But a spy I am not. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. "Come along, Mrs. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help. A radiant smile astonished him. And not a worthy tome in sight. No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard.
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