“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ” Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, and flung it back in Hill’s face. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. She saw how overworked he was. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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