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David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. He rose slowly and extended it. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly.
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