’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. The man was mad to marry me. 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. No work that offered was at all of the quality she had vaguely postulated for herself. The Oriental has no equivalent. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown.
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