Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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