At last she was roused. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. Marry me. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that misconception of them. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes.
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