Vorsack would just have to live with it. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. I am having them to my own soirée on Monday. Ennison spoke at last.
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