. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell.
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