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. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. The commissionaire smiled. " "We won't trust you, my youngster," answered the janizary.
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