” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. E. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. . ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. 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.
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