He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the widow. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. ” “No, I don’t. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. 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. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it.
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