Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. . There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. " "That's impossible," replied Jack. " He passed it over; and Ruth read: To be opened in case of my death and the letter inside forwarded to the address thereon. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. I told her it was the end. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.
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