‘I know what it means, numbskull! Didn’t spend years in the confounded country without picking up some of their infernal tongue. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. 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 threw the doctor out of the Palazzo on his rear, sending him to the insane plague-infested streets. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. She fidgeted and looked away. I will go to-night. “Like him who stood on Darien I view uncharted sea Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights Before my Queen and me.
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