Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. Then most horribly she was clasped about the waist from behind and lifted from the ground. “Do come and cheer me up. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly.
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