It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. She entered the kitchen. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR.
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