“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 leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. A nurse came hurrying up. Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. “Sure.
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