His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Once more he was the searcher. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. ‘And then vanished into thin air,’ rejoined Hilary on a sardonic note. Those were dreams. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it. And now you know.
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