A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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