Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter.
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