E. ” “And I,” Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to look into his eyes, “I will tell you what I have wished for you when we meet six months from to-day. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. Spurling, drily. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her.
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