Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her.
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