But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. “You going to the Michelle’s place for dinner?” Mike asked Lucy after the bear hugs. Her thoughts took words for themselves. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. 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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