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 left his office at 5:39 according to her watch. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. If you have enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review – it does help so much.
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