gutenberg. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. Professor Michael S. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. 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. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them.
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