I knew it. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. “I couldn’t help it. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. When they came to the round-house, Terry's courage failed him. So Mrs. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. ” Ennison at once seated himself.
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