These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. ” “I like the mystical way better,” said Ann Veronica, and thought. 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. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull.
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