Ennison spoke at last. “I’m not so sure. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself.
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