Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. Seems you were right about Valade. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere.
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