Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Rummage, my boy, do. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. He entered the driver’s side, not inserting the keys in the ignition. Apparently, Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. before them soldiers. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks.
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