I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. ” Capes lifted her hand and kissed it. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly.
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