“You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily. To Capes he was almost deferential, and she had never seen him deferential in the old time, never.
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