Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. . "I'm sorry," she said. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. My, um, my curfew. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant.
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