She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “Take off your tunic. "I wanted you to know. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. And in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire.
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