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All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. 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. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. " CHAPTER XVIII. "Would you rather be alone?" "No.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 20:32:05