” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. I want to be myself. 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. Come home alone.
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