The chance had gone. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. Surely it was a dream. 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. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. None at all. " "It's all so big and aloof. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. Come along, master. I had not been near the Royal Society since—since you disgraced me. " CHAPTER XIX.
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