Yet she held her tongue. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. I can never be grateful enough. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room.
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