Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. Plote was sleeping or deaf. My mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise.
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