“Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. I believe I’m in love. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable.
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