Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding.
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