Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. "It is Jonathan. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. Of course, I can't promise you the job definitely. She is no longer mine; she is yours. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. I don’t wish to marry you at all. ‘Yes, miss.
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