“But you must forgive me, John. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. “Sir John is not at all that sort.
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