. "It is too late. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing.
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