” He was not in the least surprised. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy. 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. \"Uh-oh.
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