She spoke slowly. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. 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. This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. As we turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was burning in this room. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost.
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