“What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings.
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