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. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. ” Michelle’s tone changed from miserable to conspiratorial. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour.
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