" An awful silence prevailed throughout the court. The doctor paced the room half a dozen times. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. " Animated by his insatiate desire of vengeance, he seemed to gain strength daily, —so much so, that within a fortnight after receiving his wound he was able to stir abroad. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face.
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