Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side.
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