‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. "I've proofs to the contrary," replied Jonathan. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Sometimes ships would stop three or four days for water and repairs; and the men would carouse in the back room at Morgan's. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would.
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