Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. He reeled, and crashed to the floor. “Mr. ” Again that curious smile which puzzled him so much parted her lips for a moment. Even, I do not mind to study this Latin so abominable. “My darling!” he said, clasping her resolutely in his arms, “my dearest!” “Mr. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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