She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength.
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