“You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. ’ ‘Comment? But already he has made this visit—in town. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. . Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. ’ Her eyes narrowed.
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