Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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