The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. There were shadows under his eyes. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history— especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. She took a deep breath.
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