Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. Ennison stood by her side. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. ‘You do not try. Mere formality. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. What is there?” “Tristan. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed.
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