Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. Married the other and ran off after Mary died. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation.
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