Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. They would arrive sometime in June. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. The man was dangerous.
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