The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. "Rachel," said Mr. You will be opposite the big entrance in Old Palace Yard. 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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