I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. 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. . But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek.
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