You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. He returned to attend the funeral. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere.
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