’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. 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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