The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. Ann Veronica was in their very forefront. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. I know he is dead.
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