’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Besides, she will do no such thing. 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. For you know that I have made up my mind to dig a little way into life single-handed. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. He—wanted to marry me. .
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