"Mr. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. And, now, to find a messenger. Before he could fire a second shot, Jack had to defend himself from the thieftaker, who, with his drawn hanger, furiously assaulted him. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. 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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