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"What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. You’re all such good cooks. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. 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.
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