“Mr. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt.
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