“You must pack for me. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. “You’re so cute. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. The water was cold but she waded deeper.
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