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Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. You could, if you were ambitious to round out your education, memorize certain popular foreign phrases. About two weeks ago. I’m sorry. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. Her tone was icy. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. I can’t afford to get behind. ‘Typical. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. ’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet.
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