‘They hold their nose up, so. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated.
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