"What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. "I eat for both. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. Montressor’s guests were. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses.
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