It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears.
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