“Um, he took me to the Big Apple. ” Lucy begged. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. Here would be the true test of his strength. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked.
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