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. She was informed by Ah Cum that the Chinaman was one of the literati and that he was expounding the deathless philosophy of Confucius, which, summed up, signified that the end of all philosophy is Nothing. I will never wed you. He was heartily thankful for it. He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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