. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. Public school. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Imitating the example of Mr.
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