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“My God!” he said again. Niente. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. “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 was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage. And such slight relief as I can afford should have been offered earlier, if I'd known where you'd taken refuge after your unfortunate husband's—" "Execution, you would say, Sir," added Mrs. "No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd.
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