She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. They had cried a little, both. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr.
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