Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair.
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