And the woollen-draper departed. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. No! That was impossible. 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. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately.
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