Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. 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. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. “Well, because I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.
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