“It is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. “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.
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