" "Never mind," said the old sailor, taking up a piece of blazing coal with the tongs, and applying it to his pipe; "let 'em try. It’s not fair to you. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. You intrigue me. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. A cold shiver came over her. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily.
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