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. She had told Emile. It heralded you, promised you. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind. “This party must be so boring for you. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person.
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