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 saw it, and checked without thinking. It was impossible. "I understand," she said. β βI am convinced of it,β she answered. . βHe has said something of the sort. It is useless to talk. " "Very well. But the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt. Once they were on the move, Kimble seemed to find strength from somewhere.
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