“If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. “I wonder what you could do?” he said. There are way-stations—even terminals. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. ’ He looked the girl up and down.
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