Very soon she would be able to forget it. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. This laugh and his looks alarmed her. But what would her aunt think of Teddy’s recent off-hand suggestion of marriage? What would she think of the Widgett conversation? Suppose she was to tell her aunt quietly but firmly about the parasitic males of degraded crustacea. It’s not far from twilight.
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