Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. Me, you may have. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. “I have not left this apartment myself. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere.
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