It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips.
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