They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. "That gown is getting shabby. She held out her hand frankly. You are my slave—and such you shall continue.
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