She could feel her face turning beet red. "Pigs and fish, to fend off the visitations of the devil. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. Most of my successes in life have been made with a sort of reckless vigor. 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. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. This smile warned the doctor not to underestimate the man. New customs have prevailed over the old.
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