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She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. 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. '" "What is that?" she asked. " "Mr. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. I never even burrowed down into the trunk. There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. “I am not in need of any. Abruptly he gripped her wrist. “What do we want? What is the goal?” asked Ann Veronica. ” Capes let his oar smack on the water. Mere formality. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came.
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