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. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs.
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