“I don’t see at all how you can be managing,” said Miss Stanley, and Ann Veronica hastened to reply, “I do on very little. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. Her anger died and she eyed him. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared.
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