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Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. These dinners, from their lavish display of ambiguous hors d’oeuvre to their skimpy ices in dishes of frilled paper, with their Chianti flasks and Parmesan dishes and their polyglot waiters and polyglot clientele, were very funny and bright; and she really liked Ramage, and valued his help and advice. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ‘And take you this sword. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works 1. The Night-Cellar XVIII. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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