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And then she fell into a musing about Capes. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. Not us. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. It makes me desire life beyond measure. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children.
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