Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Well, come back in half an hour. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. “Now listen. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. "And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window.
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