Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. As she learned more and more of his knowledge, she began to realize how much faith and trust he invested in her.
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