Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. "One of us has got to die," he panted. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. "Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes.
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