It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. 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. They walked in silence. This whole affair is truly my fault. But it is not your name. ‘Don’t concern yourself.
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