” “You mean you’re going to run away with me?” He asked in semi-seriousness. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "Now, Sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache.
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