“It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. What has she to with Constance Trenchard?" "Mrs. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. 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. He had got here at speed by that means. “They mould one insensibly.
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