She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come. ‘Like a vision she were. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. “In it lies the secret poison he used to turn you into an Oracle.
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