‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. ” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter.
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