He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. “You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. ‘I haven’t been so much entertained since I left the Army. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. White told me where to find you.
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