She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. “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. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. ’ ‘You were always someone, Melusine. “I don’t care a rap for remembering.
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