Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. " And running on in this way, he carefully concealed the tools. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis.
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