Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. Too busy. ’ Even as they watched, a shadow passed across one of the apertures. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile.
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