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Capes flashed to an understanding of her intention, sprang to his feet, and opened the door for her retreat. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. “My dad is into this stuff. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk.

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