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Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. To Breanna for believing in this project at every step. He embraced her fully. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage.
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