" "It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. Because Leonardo, he made me see that I can be someone. 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.
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