“I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay.
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