I do not love any one. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly.
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