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. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. ” She said quietly. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him.
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