“You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Wild of the circumstance. “It jars. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. "A secret is too valuable a commodity to be thrown away. Say I will come to him. . Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. “All right, Dunster,” he said.
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