It was an impulse. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. But in doing so, I most likely saved 233 your life. ‘No, let me guess,’ he interrupted. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side.
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