He said. She sighed with relief. 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. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Where I am in error, you can set me right. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. Disperse in every direction. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type.
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