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But he did not follow on with the thought. “But how can you?” asked Constance. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him. Michelle had begged her to do it. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. " "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. All we do is for your good.
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