Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. He tried this sentence with expletives. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly.
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