“I suppose a girl MUST be underpaid and sweated,” said Ann Veronica. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. 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. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back.
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