She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. \"This is my best friend, Mark. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. ’ ‘She’s as clothheaded as you,’ Roding retorted, but he slipped an arm about the lady’s waist and gave her a quick squeeze. I can't invent; the thing won't come. 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 snatched about in her mind.
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