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She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. I want to be with you. Forgive me?” She pleaded. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. “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. It had gone with the rest.
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