“Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. The women’s meeting was much more charged with emotional force than the Socialists’. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. A medley of motives warred in her, and it was certainly not one of the least of these that she knew herself to be passionately in love with Capes; at moments she had a giddy intimation that he was beginning to feel keenly interested in her. “I mean it. I saw him ride away with that other fellow.
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