“It was very tiring. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Sheppard staggered forward. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand.
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