Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. F. 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. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones.
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