Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. There was no one else in the doorway. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before.
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