He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair. Presently he heard her voice. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield.
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