’ Handing over the guineas, he added, ‘For you. The man was mad to marry me. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. The doctor laughed. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble. Charvill’s fury was burning out.
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