Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Half French. No, this was not reasonable. It was plain that a man of his age could only be interested for one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a little before the main event. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs.
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