’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. "Did you write it?" "No. ” “And who made the arrangements for you, and sent you there?” Courtlaw asked. "The nurses," she answered.
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