‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint. “You’re burning up. ” “But how?” “I poured him out some port wine, and I said—let me see—oh, ‘You are going to be a grandfather!’” “Yes. ” “It might become one,” he answered. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. It’s not fair to you. I am shockingly poor. I want to get away—to go to London.
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