“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t.
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