Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. She had looked forward to an explanation. It was
plain that a man of his age could only be interested for
one reason alone, yet she felt compelled to at know him a
little before the main event. Her unnatural calm was giving way. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or
had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared
should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut
the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. Ruth's mind was fertile
soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things
would spring up and blossom overnight. "Of course, I haven't the least evidence that the boy has done anything wrong;
it's what I'd call a hunch; piecing this and that together. I want you to be my lover. See what a horrible rascal
you've let loose upon the world!"
"I'm sure, mother," rejoined Winifred, "if any one was likely to feel resentment, I
was; for no one could be more frightened.
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