Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. ’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire.
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