“But—your people!” she gasped. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him. Her English was halting. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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