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. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. " The little urchin set off, and presently returned with the sexton.
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