Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. You will find it somewhere in that book. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. But shortly this movement ceased. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. It was Blueskin.
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