It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. Fortescue?” “At your service. Sheppard. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. I know all. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands.
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