" "The White Hollyhock would fit her better. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. 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. Oh, you cannot escape from it.
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