The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said gently, “I am afraid that some fresh trouble has come to you. I merely mention these circumstances to show the accuracy of my information. I can withstand sunlight. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own.
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