The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. 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. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone.
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