“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. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. ‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. “Mary!” He whispered loudly.
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