I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk. Annabel entered. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. You haven’t had it on your mind all this time?” “I have rather.
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