Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Then he turned with a fierce movement to take her into his arms. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind.
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