How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. F. Ennison kicked it away with his foot. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it.
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