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. . She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully.
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