“Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. That'll tune me up. “I am very much obliged for the tea,” she said.
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