“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. ” She was altogether hysterical now. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face. I was the last on board. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed.
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