I told him the truth. He had heard nothing. You'll find those young ladies extremely agreeable acquaintances. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked.
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