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. “I remember it very well indeed. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her.
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