“Boys!” said Capes. She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house. “No, he grabbed my hand. The room was dark and dusty. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. The simile started a laugh in his throat.
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