” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. ” The man hesitated. “But if you had?” she said. But I'll never part with your irons. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock.
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