He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. She hesitated. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire.
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