And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end.
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