“It was the night you left Paris. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table. " Mrs. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. " "It ought to be; it cost enough to get it here," said the Scot, ruefully. He was a philosopher. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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