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’ The gentleness in his voice nearly overset her. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. He was ready to seed his legacy, and you were a pawn to be moved out of the way. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. She paused. She shrugged her shoulders. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. The Pursuit.
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