Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. "Since the sea has spared him, I will spare him. "I say we, because Miss Rachel and I have struck up a match. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off.
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