“Still, of course, it is possible. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry. ‘It is nothing. C. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. " "That sounds funny … to play it with your feet!" McClintock laughed.
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