. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. . " "While I look as if I had stepped out of the family album?" He frowned perplexedly. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. “Why not?” he exclaimed. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. It was so difficult to put precisely. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude.
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