Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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