“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. It is not for myself I fear. Of course, I don't believe she's what you would call flush. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. "To me?" gasped Winifred. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up.
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