The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. “I can’t keep away from you. 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. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. ’ She pronounced it with a French inflexion, but Gerald understood her to mean the English name he knew.
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