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Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. All my personal effects to be left in charge of the nearest American Consulate.
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