" CHAPTER XIII. I know there’s a sort of right in your impatience at the slowness of Progress. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. don’t have time. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. The theme was a masquerade. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking.
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