Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. Winny, this is the last night I shall pass beneath your father's roof.
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