Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. He tried again. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. This is altogether insupportable. "Breathe at this phial," said Winifred. Her thoughts took words for themselves. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. ‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. If your wife can coach you a bit in native lingo, it will help all round. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend.
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