She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. ” “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. They don’t know who did it, actually. ” “That is provokingly indefinite,” he answered, a little ruefully.
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