I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. "Come home directly, Sir. You want me to be clean. Sheppard. Poor little one. 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. Men usually do.
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