Marry me. E. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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