‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. You have to marry me. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. "I shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company. She is no longer mine; she is yours. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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