‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. It ought not to be much.
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