At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Barring that the Valade fellow had sneaked back.
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