It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. And I want you for myself—for my wife. 123 It didn’t take long. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Jonathan threw open the street-door. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. Deep silences came between them.
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