“It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. Too late. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. " "Infernally provoking!" echoed Langley.
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