Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Twice we hired caterers. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. ‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. “Something. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me.
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