’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. Wood. “It was the night you left Paris. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. But it was extraordinary what seemingly irrelevant things could restore her to the thought of Capes again. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered.
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