“You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. And will you look! His name neatly cut out from each title page. "Let me see the earth thrown over her," implored Jack; "and take me where you please.
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