Nothing material occurred to Newgate, until the memorable year 1666, when it was utterly destroyed by the Great Fire. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. She asked the girl to fetch Mr. ’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. I don’t know that I understand altogether. ” “Did I?” she said. 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. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s.
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