“In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit.
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