“You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. But I'll be more lenient, and content myself with merely chastising you, on condition—" "You may do as you please, master," interrupted Jack, thrusting his hand into his pocket, as if in search of the knife; "but I wouldn't advise you to lay hands on me again. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. They are not your children, they never were.
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