"Very well, Mr. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. ” She was altogether hysterical now. 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. I would have heard her. ‘I am done, Gérard.
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