Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. On this side of the canal she has no place to go. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Martha was quite right. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold.
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