The boy she had loved was gone. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. And Mr. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction.
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