Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. She had not at first the power for concealment. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. You see—I didn’t understand. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. 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 wants you so, he is still a virgin.
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