“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. . She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. She looked 57 forward to when Sebastian visited.
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