He did not have to. 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. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. “Martin, I don’t know what to say.
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