“Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “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. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. I doubt if you will receive anything for your trouble. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily.
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