"Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. That was the only sound he heard. It might be upset. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. 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. “I want to be your friend,” he said.
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