“Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. If so, do not hesitate to tell me. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. Wood,—"he'll never mend. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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