Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. Old Newgate.
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