He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. "I dare say she has called to inquire about Jack. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. Beneath that tree let us lie. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well.
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