’ ‘I do not tell you why,’ the lady uttered flatly. “Alice—Alice gone dotty, and all over kids. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. O'Higgins followed him into the dining room. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm.
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