He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night. 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. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. ‘You have made a serious mistake, Melusine. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation.
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