She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. I believe I’m in love. She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans. 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.
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