” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. ” Ennison turned round sharply. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. In the first place, Mrs.
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