She reloaded. ‘Will you stop hedging? I’m hanged if I go on with this ridiculous cat and mouse game. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. It had been easy to steal.
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