He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. I thought perhaps you were staying with them, as you did not seem particularly anxious to recognize your old friends. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. I'll take off your irons—for I guess that's the reason why you want the hammer and file—on one condition. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death.
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