Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. Man's fate is in his own hands.
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