Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. It came to her that to marry any one but Capes was impossible. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. Lassitude?” “I suppose so.
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