“No. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately.
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