Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. ” At the sight of her tears his expression changed to a mingling of triumph and concern.
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