Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. "Your sympathy is being wasted. They fell in a diapason of smashes. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. ‘I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes. But leave me here in my home, child, I will disintegrate if I am exposed.
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