" "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. The thing is done. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us.
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