His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Hill, Meysey Hill. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. People running, screaming, hiding. Satisfied, however, that she did not notice him, Jonathan glided away as noiselessly as he came, and ascended another short flight of stairs leading to the garret. So they fenced with smiles.
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