“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. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. His arms released from his 68 sides, he lifted them around her in a light embrace. “I know. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover.
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