Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead.
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