“Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry. My will never faltered. I’m right again now. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it.
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