Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. He pulled down a chair to her left. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. The elemental woman was always close to the cat: as the elemental man was always but a point removed from the wolf. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. After that consolations fled.
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