" "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. That is what my mother used to call me. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. “You were married to him!” “It could not be legal,” Annabel moaned.
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