Never be downhearted. . Surely Capes was different. She must speak to Jack. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. ‘Good.
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