” She commanded. " The Wastrel advanced. Profoundly. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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