Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. ‘Not at all ladylike. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on.
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