” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. ’ ‘Nonsense. It was time to get up. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets.
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