He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. ” “You have seen her—since last night?” “Yes. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them.
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