” “I came here to talk reasonably, Mr. . His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. 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. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. "I could not make him understand. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth.
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