His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. Would I could purchase his apathy as easily as I can procure his assistance. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. I was a novelty. She addressed Capes as though she spoke to him alone.
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