Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected. It never is. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. That is an evil place!” She cried. In addition to the various business men, solicitors, civil servants, and widow ladies who lived in the Morningside Park Avenue, there was a certain family of alien sympathies and artistic quality, the Widgetts, with which Ann Veronica had become very friendly. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me.
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