I don’t know. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. ’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. . ” Lucy spoke up, “We used to call that ‘playing the coquette’. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. If you like books and music, we'll get along. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. "Mr.
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