“It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. ” He rolled his eyes, trying 190 to conceal pride. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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