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Ennison stood by her side. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. ‘Come, cry a truce. For that matter, my future be damned. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again.

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