Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. You shall have your reward. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall.
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