The well of tears in her eyes was dry. “I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. I’ve got a lot of things to think about. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround.
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