" "What faith is to be kept with a felon?" replied the woollen-draper, disdainfully. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. 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.
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