She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. She was conscious the whole conversation of Michelle, trying to divine what the girl was planning to do. A slow anger burned in the man. “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. ?” she asked. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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