Ennison spoke at last. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “I didn’t ask you to get married.
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