Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. ” He said to her. Above her head was an aura of white fire. 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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