Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. There was nothing to be learned from her face. My Mom and Dad were on the brink of divorce, what else is new, they still are.
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