It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. " "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben.
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