She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. 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 thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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