I don’t believe in the faults. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. ” He was arrested for a moment by an indistinct picture of Veronica reading this last sentence. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. . " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall.
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