58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. Then suddenly the curtain would fall. Man's fate is in his own hands. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river.
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