"Your faults were the faults of circumstances. This is clear over my head. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. 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. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break.
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