‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. A deadlock. on. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Mr.
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