“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. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. But nothing followed to indicate that the liquid had stimulated the heart. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. His face clouded with anger. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh.
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