From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. Jonathan, however, still lingered. 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. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend.
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