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"We never suffer him to mention Mr. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness. ” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. 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 strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ” He did not look at her.
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