Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. Consternation gripped him. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. ‘He told me everything, if you mean Gerald. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper.
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