He looked at her, hurt. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. 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. "What is this?" she wanted to know. CHAPTER XIII. . It seems Valade visited him that day to present his credentials, and Charvill posted straight off to inform his great-uncle. ” “Did you tell him of the registry office?” “No—o—certainly not so emphatically as I did about the play. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts.
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