There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. ” Her hand fell back into her lap. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. . She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life.
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