“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. I'm going through his pockets. “Oh, John, please!” “You are already leaving me. “Go on!” she commanded. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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