She had never had a real doll. 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. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. “Well,” she admitted. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on.
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