” “And I,” Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to look into his eyes, “I will tell you what I have wished for you when we meet six months from to-day. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago.
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