“A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. Only that I was prevented by one of those soldiers that caught me in the big house. We were going at a mad pace. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle.
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