I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried. 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. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale.
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