There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. Always. We begin rehearsing on Monday at the ‘Garrick’. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. “We’ve made out but we haven’t had sex. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. The Dawn Pearl! To be with her constantly, with no diversions to serve as barricades! Damn McClintock for putting this thought in his head—that Ruth loved him! He flung himself upon the beach, face downward, his outflung hands digging into the sand: which was oddly like his problem—he could not grip it.
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