Wood, contemptuously. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. I'll leave these out, and to-morrow you can read them through. Take it, I tell you. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. Diable. ’ ‘Ah yes. Wood. “You’re. "Ah! I see. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover.
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