It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. All in a moment. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired.
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