At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror. “I’m going to kill your weakness for you. 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 of course. " "But I'm a poor man. ” He walked from his door frame to stand nearer to her.
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