My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. His eyes were closed. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. " "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. It’s all right. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. "But I'll yet disappoint you.
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