The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. “I dare not,” she answered.
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