Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. It'll be your turn to save mine next. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. Her face is shaped funny, real long and skinny, and she has no chin. She had no intention of fighting fair. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room.
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