He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife.
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