112 Sheila needed an early riser: a girl around the house to help cook and clean and walk the dog. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered.
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