She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. “What was that?” she asked sharply. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea.
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