“But Sir John?” he exclaimed. “When you loosen the tangle in one place you tie a knot in another. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again.
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