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Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. “I’m not that beautiful. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria.
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