" "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. I’ve wanted you—always. 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. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had.
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