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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 forgive me, John. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. "Caught!" shouted the head-turnkey. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. Without a word, the general reached out and took them, but his glance searched the girl’s face. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. "I'll tell you a dream I had last night," continued the unfortunate being.

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