Perhaps it was loneliness. I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father. Heard of your last escape. “Dear John,” she whispered. . There he stands. ” She declared. The young man looked at her. 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. ” Ennison shrugged his shoulders. “Why?” “I still love you.
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