“You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Accounted extremely pretty in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older, without much detriment to their original comeliness. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling.
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