Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. “There I can’t help,” said Capes. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. His statement was treated with derision. "But, I own, I think it is like. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. You will stop at once. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over.
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