“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. He returned, “Lucy, you knew I didn’t live anywhere near you?” “I was aware. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin.
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