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. “Take off your tunic. ” Her hands fell to her side. The only occasional presence other than a skeleton crew of servants was Sebastianus, who occasionally joined Gianfrancesco in the hunt for stag, rabbit, or quail, and then went away for another fortnight. ’ Saling coughed. ’ ‘No, no,’ the other lady assured her with a twinkle.
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