" She rose. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. .
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