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I should like to know how it is concerned with Sir John Ferringhall, and how my presence intervenes. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. “I’m still new to them. A day will come when you will thank me. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked.
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