’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Wood, I forget nothing. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. ‘Well, this maid,’ went on Kimble eagerly, ‘and me, we gets to talking, see, and that’s how I knew he were off to this party.
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