That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. 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. . She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. ‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. ” “I am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly.
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