She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. Surely he was imagining this picture. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. They fell in a diapason of smashes. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. We have so much to be thankful for. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler.
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