” The change in Lady Ferringhall’s manner was subtle but unmistakable. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. She could feel her face turning beet red. ‘Tell me, my boy. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone.
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