Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. " "Sit down, my dear, sit down," interposed Mrs. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. " The Chinaman paused.
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