Capes—the ‘Capes crave,’ they would call it in America. “I don’t want children, Lucy. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again.
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