In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side.
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