Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him.
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