’ Gerald capitulated. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. Perhaps, after all, the others were right.
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