“Heavens, look at the time!” she exclaimed. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. It was a mass of knick-knacks. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard.
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