There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. I do not think that you will dare to marry anybody else. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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