They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. It was hard to meet that gaze. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. . "But be prudent, my angel.
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