Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. “A bad thing for me when that legacy came. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly.
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