Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. That's how I finally got wind of it. She tore open the envelope and read it. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. “You vixen!” said Mr. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her.
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