"Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. "Allow me to assist you, Sir James," said Hogarth. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “It’s my fault. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home.
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