Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. Then it dawned. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her. Things happen out this way. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. "Where did you find it!" asked Wood.
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