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. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “Oh, you know,” she said. ’ ‘Bravo,’ applauded Lucilla, clapping her hands.
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