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. Her thought spoke aloud. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. “This is all very well,” she said, “but two out of the three are rank deserters— and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches. ’ ‘Lucky indeed,’ answered Gerald, glancing at the pair again. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. Drink, and no sustaining food. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again.
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