He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. She held out her hand frankly. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. Lucy knocked again. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. She saw his face change, how he regretted. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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