“Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. "I'm sorry, Mr. . It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness.
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