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"But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. . A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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