‘And nor do I. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr.
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