The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. But I'll not believe it of you. John’s demeanor shifted. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain.
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