And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. I'd go for it. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. The night was now profoundly dark. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start.
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