Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. “A man can manage without hair; A man scores always, everywhere. We can be friends again. “You shall go,” he declared. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Wood, I forget nothing. Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud.
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