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Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. 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 tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. Womanhood is sacred to me. ” Ann Veronica was deciding for further confidences.
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