Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. In Larry’s old Cadillac sedan, she sat in the backseat as Larry drove and Cathy sat beside him. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. His face darkened.
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