He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something.
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