Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. An unwelcome idea came to him. 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. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. " "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard.
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