" "That kind of talk makes you sound like a white man. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "I can," replied Trenchard. She immediately took the pillows from under the head of the man who had two names, released the collar and tie, and arranged the arms alongside the body. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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