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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. ” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. I can see the whole thing was just a set-up for sequels, though. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. ‘I live in Kent. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought.
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