The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Get pen and paper for the missie.
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