He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. Of course there were goats. She got hysterical. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary.
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