" "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. She saw his eyes glaze over. That wasn’t even the worst thing. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. Enschede halted. Sheppard. “I love your sister. 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. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. Will you venture?" "It is a hazardous experiment," said Thames, after a moment's reflection; "but I will make it. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. She rose to the fire to stoke it.
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