Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Certainly I never met him. ’ Alderley glanced round the bedchamber. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. It’s a damned hard thing to do. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. ’ Then she frowned. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava.
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