She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. 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. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. Blood, they say, won't come out.
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