’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. She felt that with Capes near to her she would be content always to go on loving. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. You can tell me the rest another time. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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