“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure. Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions.
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