‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. He had, for the most part, been correct. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. His perseverance was amply rewarded.
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