"It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are. 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.
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