"Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. Earles said, “but this is rubbish. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. If I do not look after her, she has no one. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. " "Graves.
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