“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. ” She replied. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. Earles?” he inquired. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. Oh, it is unbearable.
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