—Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. That is my way, my dear. Have you got someone in mind for me?" "Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story. "Don't alarm yourself. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall.
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