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Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. They shall hear of me no more. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. “Exactly.
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