“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. “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. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship.
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