“I had thought to go on to Kandersteg,” said Capes, “but this is a pleasant place. They will insist upon a catalogue of things one must not do, which does nothing but fill one with the greatest desire to do them. I want you. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. I’m damaged goods. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days.
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