“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. “My dear sweet Lucia. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up.
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