‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. \"Thanks. 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. Understanding the appeal, the man snatched his master's sword from his grasp, and passed it through Darrell's body. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered.
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