’ Roding started. ” Lucy’s nagging worry raised its own status to full blown alarm. 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. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees.
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