"You can render no further service to your poor mother. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. For a while he threatened her. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. I don’t know. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle. As you know my seed is infertile with all women, they are no more than cattle, but it was not so with my Rhea.
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