Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. Listen, Jack. More,’ he said, ‘but I’m told it’s the most amusing thing in London at the present time. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. So far the thing was acceptable enough. He came over to me.
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