Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. " Ruth walked to the companion. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. ” “It isn’t nice going to prison. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. " "And you my warning," retorted Wild.
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