But there was a face pressed to the glass. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. The girl’s eyes never left his face. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them. . ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. Only she hadn’t. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively.
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