“And you brought her a man, I presume. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me.
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