’ ‘That’s better. I am dreadfully sad. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music.
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