” She said. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. . ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad.
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