By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin.
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