” Ennison took an easy chair. Hollo rumbled in his throat. He opened the drawer of the writing table. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Then go and fetch this daughter of yourn. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. Ennison’s acquaintance. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs.
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