If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. Try and consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you like best. 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. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. That is not reasonable. " "Ah, I see. But, when I look upon his innocent face, and see how like he is to his father,—when I think of that father's shameful ending, and recollect how free from guilt he once was,—at such times, Mr. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory.
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