" "I dare say no such thing," interposed his better half, authoritatively; "remain where you are, Sir. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. 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. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door.
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