Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. " "Let me see it," cried Thames, snatching it from him. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. No work that offered was at all of the quality she had vaguely postulated for herself. "And now, I've one further request," faltered Jack; "though I scarcely know how to make it. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “I wonder would you mind seeing who it is. Sweatshirts and sweatpants were in for a while but they’re out now. Wild. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed.
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