I came to the Beck’s house. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. ” “It’s some sort of delirium,” said Capes. “This is a very foolish sort of entertainment. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. CHAPTER III. "Sir Cecil is no more. They stood back together and stared at it. "What's that?" asked Wild.
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