Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. “Am I hurting you?” She asked.
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