She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. . Don’t stand gawping, man. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. "I'll lay my life he's gone on a fox-and-goose-chase to Mr. Wild here presently. Certainly your major—’ ‘Ah, now that’s just it, missie. ” But she could not talk freely about love, she found, for all that manumission. Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room.
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