’ Melusine sank against the wall of the corridor, closing her eyes. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary. Thank goodness there’s plenty of opportunity! And we two can talk. Her sister’s words were true. 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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