About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. “He tried it. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. He had a wild impulse to shout. Stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and had waved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps.
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