A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. But we waste time. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. He followed. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears.
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