’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son.
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