It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing
left for her to do. 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. He looked at
her, hurt. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. “And then they are swollen up and
inflamed and drunken with matter. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and
any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ4LjEwOS41IC0gMDItMDctMjAyNCAxOTo1NDoyNiAtIDE5OTY5Mzk2NzE=
This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 29-06-2024 02:14:18