He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. "As circumstances shall dictate, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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