” “I wasn’t jesting,” said Capes, abruptly. The Supper at Mr. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper.
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