"Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. ” “Nor I. . . 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. He has got Blueskin with him.
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