“Dear husband,” she murmured. You can do anything you please. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments.
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