Such pretty manners, she thought. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. . She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried.
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