I don’t know. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. 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 impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous.
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