“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. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. ” She stopped abruptly, and turned about toward the front door. “The fellow seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in Paris. ‘Mademoiselle. Sheppard. ‘I know, Melusine. There stood John and Mr.
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