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. ” “Mr. ” There was a shout of laughter. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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