“Am I dull?” she said. “I hope you are going to Carey House. 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. ” Ann Veronica opened her lips quickly and did not speak. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. Through that she had to go.
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