Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. 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. I understand nothing of what you say. He looked at her, hurt. "Because you did not wish to hurt me?" "Yes. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand.
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