“It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. Just then, a carriage drawn by four horses, drove furiously up to the Six Bells; but Jack was too much absorbed to take any notice of it. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered.
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