Maggot held up a lantern, which she found in the shop. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry.
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