” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. Tom swore he hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself.
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