Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. I’m a desperate young woman. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion.
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