She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Above the housetops it was different. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. Close upon this came another thought.
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