It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. It’s just like your Splendid Pride to do it. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. You must have figured that out by now. “I saw his face in a mirror. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once.
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