She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She traced him by his scent. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. . " CHAPTER XVIII. . I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. The couple reappeared from behind the curtains, both visibly shaken. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do.
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