All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded.
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