She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. ” His face darkened. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly.
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