Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow.
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