Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. ” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. I know. 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 how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere.
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