. \" She was surprised that he had noticed her existence as early as her arrival at the Beck house. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. Nor Jacques. She could not see clearly. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. "Did I hear you …" began McClintock. 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 was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Under the somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a recent use of the powder puff.
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