‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. If not, keep up your spirits. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray.
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