She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls.
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