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CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. 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. That's a most damnable lie; and when she finds out, 'tis then she will not forgive. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. But I see now. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. “Well, you know. ” “You fellows,” Ennison said quietly, “are getting a little wild. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. And he had gone away without knowing the truth! "My proa boys are ready; the wind is brisk; and in an hour we shall be beyond all pursuit. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks.

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