"I am, Charcoal. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. 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.
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