” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide.
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