" His demeanour was polished; his manners singularly affable and gentle; and he was remarkable, for the generosity of his temper. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. It was as follows, and, when uttered, produced a strong effect upon all who heard it, except the prisoner, who, in no respect, altered his sullen and dogged demeanour. . “Thanks, Cathy. I knew it. 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. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women.
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