A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause.
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