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“You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. You may command my services at any time. His eyes were bright with the hunt. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. 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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