‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. 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. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. “You are in trouble,” he said. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. “Rubbish!” he answered. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time.
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