“By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. ” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. good at that. “I don’t think she will,” she said.
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