Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. I am so much obliged to you for your projected benevolence. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. Here lay a heap of knockers of all sizes, from the huge lion's head to the small brass rapper: there, a collection of sign-boards, with the names and calling of the owners utterly obliterated. " "Not for worlds!" exclaimed both ladies together.
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