‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. But for me it doesn’t matter. It was a dead calm. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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