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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. Part 2 The next few weeks were a time of the very liveliest thought and growth for Ann Veronica. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. "Well that's no reason why he should treat your ladyship so shamefully, I'm sure. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. He seemed too noisy.
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