By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. They were true noblemen, men of the court. “Delicious!” she murmured. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey.
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