At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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