“Lady Ferringhall, sir. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. " "A terrible dream, indeed," said Jonathan thoughtfully. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over.
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