She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. He bent over to Anna at once. She made a step forward. " "But why didn't you oppose him?" "I had to let him have his way, else he might not have returned safely.
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