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. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. The Red Room.
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