Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. “It is concerning—our future relations,” Sir John pronounced ponderously. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. "That depends upon you.
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