" She sent a covert glance toward the young man. "What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. Ennison had disappeared. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know.
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