"He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. I should like to know how it is concerned with Sir John Ferringhall, and how my presence intervenes. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations.
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