In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. Courtlaw’s—I should like to oblige Mr. “Anyway, enough about that. Wood, bursting into tears, "God bless you!" Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. 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.
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