Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. ‘Can’t see a thing. She looked in the rear-view mirror. 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 regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. " "My coat, please.
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