. “Does it hurt?” Michelle asked. 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. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. Manning. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer.
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