Then came the great day. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. He let go of the girl’s arm. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Stanley’s pace slackened. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. Die game.
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