You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. The weed was all right. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. "Yale? Why, so am I. Ovarian cancer.
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