Plote was sleeping or deaf. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. ‘I’ll make you an offer. Please to let me go there.
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