Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. . " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. He knows everything. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Sheppard, horror-stricken. Sheppard, with startling eagerness. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. You have misunderstood.
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