I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. 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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