Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. And now, Quilt," he continued, addressing the janizary, who approached him with the horse, "fly to St.
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