Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. ‘Very well, then. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. “I doubted my luck, at least. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. And we’re going to fight that old world down there. ” Lucy said tenderly.
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