Gregory B. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. But it was extraordinary what seemingly irrelevant things could restore her to the thought of Capes again. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage.
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