"I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. He walked with bent head. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. " "I should be unafraid to go anywhere with you.
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