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She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. ” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him.
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