He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. . His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. He had got here at speed by that means. I would have liked to know.
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