He spoke English with astonishing facility and with a purity which often embarrassed his tourists. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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