Clotilde announced that she would not be back and she was taking Fritz and Anna forever. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. 1. CHAPTER II.
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