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. Her thoughts took words for themselves. Burn your palette and your easel. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. Her steps slowed. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St.
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