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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. ’ ‘Why the devil should you be interested, I should like to know?’ rejoined Roding. “But I wanted to see you. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. If we fail,” said Capes, “then—” “We aren’t going to fail,” said Ann Veronica. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation.
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