“By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. Upon which Mrs. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. She cried out with the pain of it. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. ’ Which effectually silenced her.
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