He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. . ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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