“You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. The chief influence was her awakening sense of the need of money.
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