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. “After all, how easy the descent is, even for the greatest of us. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. But you are Annabel. Your mother arrived, and she knew me for what I was, she whispered to me curses against werewolves and vampires when I was alone in a room with her. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do.
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