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“Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. 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. ’ Baring his teeth in a smile of triumph that was every bit an animal snarl, and leaping up onto the seat of the pew he was in, he jumped hazardously to the next. It was quite an unexpected pleasure to meet you and your worthy father.
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