” There was never any shortage of bad men to eat, especially with pestilence and superstition to cover their tracks. 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. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art.
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