My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it.
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