‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. \" She said, looking beside him at a taller boy who appeared to be bored. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell.
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