“You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. She peered into the darkness. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. 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. ” “That’s rather a pity,” Annabel said.
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